


In the end, the sun will rise

by Ecosavings741



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, How I thought the series would have ended, Post-War for the Dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:24:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecosavings741/pseuds/Ecosavings741
Summary: He means to protect her from what she has dreaded most, but he does not know of the promise Jon had made to her, his eyes alight with fire and shiny with unshed tears, holding her tightly to his scarred chest with a tenderness she was the only one blessed enough to experience as he promised her over and over.





	In the end, the sun will rise

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before season 8 premiered. It was how I envisioned the series ending, then season 8 happened. I feel like this may be a bit OOC but I tried my best. Fair warning, there is heavy angst.
> 
> Unbeta'd so apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

The dead all around her stutter frozen, before wave after wave collapse in heaps.

Dany breathes the frozen air heavily through her nose and expels it out through her mouth. Ser Jorah stumbles across the corpses to reach her, falling to his knees to match her. His face is painted red with blood and his arm hangs limp at his side, looking broken.

“Khalessi,” He croaks out, voice heavy with exhaustion and disbelief. “Are you hurt?” His eyes and hands rove over her tattered coat, checking over her for any grievous wound that may require any immediate attention.

She gives one shake of her head, to tired to give more. There are cuts and bruises littered on her body, her head is pounding, a result of blood loss from the wound she received when she fell off Drogon and as she kneels on the frozen tundra, she starts to feel every bone and muscle ache from the non-stop battle that was dragged on for _days_. But otherwise, she’s no worse for wear.

Satisfied with his inspection of her, Jorah helps her to her feet. “We did it. The dead are no more.” Jorah says, immense relief latching into his voice.

Her eyes flicker across the leagues and leagues of dead wights and corpses alike, neck straining this way and that when she can’t find _him_. Her heart thrums and coils tight deep in her chest, panic and anxiety surging throughout her entire being as the seconds pass and Dany still can’t find him.

“Jon,” Her voice is a rasp, ruined by all the roars of ‘_Dracrays_’ throughout battle and now the panic that threatens to completely close her throat. She grips Jorah’s forearm with what little strength she has left, desperate. “Where is Jon?”

He doesn’t mean to show it but, his blue eyes flicker to the north of where they’re standing. It’s enough for her to pull out of his grasp. Pulling on the tether with Drogon. 

“Khalessi, please,” He rushes forward to block her path, to prevent her from reaching Jon or to protect her from what she may find. _No._ She will not entertain that thought. She _can’t_. “You’ve lost too much blood, let a maester see to your wounds.”

She ignores him, sidestepping him as she calls for Drogon. “_Drōgon, naejot nyke!_” A beat passes before Drogon dips and explodes from the grey skies above, diving down before landing with a thud in a space relatively clear of bodies. He’s wounded, Dany can tell right away, his wings are littered with holes large and small and his breaths comes out in erratic huffs from exhaustion.

She rushes forward, but before she can climb up, an arm wraps around her waist from behind. “Daenerys,” Jorah breathes out. Her body whips around in his hold, incensed and ready to lash out before she catches the look on his face. His expression is pained, worry wrinkles his face, his mouth set in a grim line. “I beg of you, fly back to the The Twins. I will gather the Unsullied and we’ll find them. _All _of them, I swear it.”

He says it—begs it of her-- with such conviction that she almost wants to follow through without thought. He means to protect her from what she has dreaded most, but he does not know of the promise Jon had made to her, his eyes alight with fire and shiny with unshed tears, holding her tightly to his scarred chest with a tenderness she was the only one blessed enough to experience as he promised her over and over.

Jorah may’ve accepted what is likely to be reality, but Daenerys will not, can not.

Swallowing the flood of emotions, Daenerys steels her spine, reaches out to gently pull his arm away from her. “I have to find him. I have to go to Jon, wherever he may be. He is alive, I know it.”

Jorah pleads with his eyes one last time before he bows his head incrementally and steps back as Daenerys climbs onto Drogon’s back.

“I will come for you, then.” Jorah says.

Dany nods distractedly, impatient to take to the skies, to reach Jon. “Sōvēs,” she says and a moment later, she is thrusted into the skies.

* * *

It’s a little further up north, near the ruins of Moat Cailin when Drogon has barely landed that Daenerys leaps off his back, stumbling in the ice and snow before she gets her footing and dashes toward his prone body.

_You’re okay, you’re going to be fine, you’re not going to die. _She repeats it like a mantra, like a prayer to any forsaken Gods that will listen. She lost faith in any deities long ago, but for this, she will pray and beg and plead reverently for the rest of her life.

After days of screams, clashing swords, and howling winter winds, the silence is deafening. The only sound is the snow crunching under the weight of her boots as they slam one foot after another in steady, furious rhythm, faltering only when, upon close enough, a pool of red snow flares into her sight. He is only a quick dash away from her, but she can’t get there quick enough. There are ice shards, small and large, protruding from the ground all around him, but she pays it no mind as Dany falls to her knees beside him, a great heaving sob escaping her, and tears streaming down her cheeks.

She quickly, but gently rolls him on to his back, shuffling and settling the weight of his head, shoulders, and upper back across her thighs. The pool of blood is staggering, larger now that she is right there with him. The snow around him is painted red, and the snow from which he previously laid prone is a deep crimson.

Tears blur her vision as she gazes down on him, horror and grief stretching hauntingly across her face. Bruises and cuts line his comely face. A particularly large cut lines itself from the middle of his forehead, past his left eye, continuing down to his cheek. His gorget featuring a direwolf on one side and a dragon on the other, one she had given to him and buckled on for him, hangs loosely off one side. The black and grey gambeson has cuts and holes where he continues to bleed out of, staining the air with a coppery smell as she holds him.

“Please, please, please,” She begs to his deadly still body, rocking his body along with hers and pressing her face into the freed black curls.

He chokes and splutters out blood, his body convulsing before his eyes open. “Dany,” is all Jon says, voice gruff and weak, but filled with so much relief and love at the sight of her unharmed. 

Another ruined sob rips out of her and the tightness relieves itself from around her heart at hearing his voice, but only for a fleeting moment as Jon attempts to speak again only to struggle to breathe.

Daenerys pulls his heavy body up, rubbing his back at first, then slamming her palm into it as panic rips through her the longer he fights for breath. Jon splatters the ground with freshly coughed up blood before slumping against her and finally taking in deep unobstructed breaths. Wishing to waste no time, she calls out to Drogon to come closer, before wrapping both arms under Jon’s armpits. She steels her voice, wishing to put on a determined, strong façade for him, not wanting to worry him with the turmoil and hysteria she truly feels.

Drogon settles as close as possible and lowers himself completely flat on the ground sensing his mother’s panic. “We have to get you up and on to Drogon, my love.” She whispers into his ear as her hand brushed across his forehead, moving the curls away from his face.

She feels Jon’s body tighten, as if ready to charge into battle, before he nods.

She uses all her strength to help lift his weaken body up on to his feet as he hisses out in pure agony.

She settles his arm around her shoulders, hanging limply before she wraps her arms around his middle section, careful not to put too much pressure on the large wounds on his stomach and side.

They stumble the few steps needed to reach Drogon before Jon collapses in a heap against Drogon’s side, heavily breathing as if the six steps he’d taken drained him of everything he had left.

Dany gasps before gripping his cheeks softly to stop his head from lolling to the side, “Almost there, my love, almost there. You have to help me bring you on to Drogon. Can you do that for me?”

Jon’s eyes had fluttered to half lids and Dany was sure he only heard part of her request and it looks like he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep, but he nods anyways. Lifting himself and using Drogon’s side as a crutch, he paused as he got to both feet.

Getting behind him, she cupped her hands together to hoist him on to Drogon. Looking back at her, Jon nods before settling his boot into her palms. She gives it everything she has, and she has no doubt Jon does as well, but he falters in what little strength he has left and slips off Drogon, landing on his legs before they quickly buckled underneath him and with his back against the scaly side of Drogon before Dany bolts forward to catch him just as he slumps forward and into her chest.

His breath is warm against her neck and she wants to take comfort in that, but she feels how laborious and ragged it is.

She gives him a moment to catch his breath, stroking his back. “Okay, I can pull you up from atop Drogon.” She says determinedly.

She falters when Jon shakes his head and says in nothing more than a rasp, “I can’t.”

“You can, Jon. Please.” She says, willing him, urging him, _begging_ him. When he makes no effort to move into an upright position and instead splays his legs out in front of him and settles more firmly into Drogon’s side, Dany tries another method.

“Drogon will pick you up” Dany motions to the great deadly talons. “a-and we’ll be at the Twins in no time. A maester will heal you and-“ Her voice had gone shriller and panic had seeped into her voice as much as she had tried to keep it at bay before Jon interrupts her.

“Dany, my love, I can’t.” His voice is eerily calm and there is a strength in his voice that was absent before. “I will not make it in time even if I was able to get on Drogon.” He is not looking at her, his eyes trained on the trail of blood, _his_ blood as they moved him closer to Drogon. His face was pale, looking as white as the snow around them, causing the dread and panic to increase in Dany's chest.

She moves closer to him before grabbing onto his gambeson distressingly, “Jon, please don’t do this. Please.” Her voice cracks and wavers, the flood of emotion she had held back come crashing into her as fresh tears well in her eyes and her throat tightens, threatening to suffocate her.

He does not say anything to that, only cups her cheeks, thumbs wiping at her tears before he presses their lips together.

He pours everything he has into the kiss, his undying love, hope, and apology and with tears still streaming down her face, Dany returns it just as fervently all the while she sobs and feels her heart squeezes tight.

When they break apart, gasping, panting, and foreheads pressed tightly together, Dany grips his hand tightly lacing their fingers together before whispering brokenly, “You lied to me,” She waits until those grey eyes she loves so dearly open before continuing, “You promised you would not die. You promised to be with me always.”

He nods somberly, the first and only promise he has failed to keep to her. A sad smile graces his lips as he reaches out to push a few silver locks away from her face and behind her ear. “I know, my love, I know. I tried…” The tears building in his eyes finally slip down his cheeks. “Know that I fought with everything I had to return to you.”

She wants to feel anger and rage at him, but how can she when she knows in her heart that he did everything humanly possible to return to her? How can she when, deep down, she knows this cruel, unforgiving world would not allow for him to keep his promise. How can she when all she feels is her heart shattering and dying alongside him?

So, instead, when Jon weakly tries to pull her into his lap, she crawls on top herself and wraps her arms around him tightly, laying her head on his chest as she listens and engrains his heartbeat to memory and the feel of his arms around her and his hands stroking her back.

After what could have been a moment or ten, Jon nudges her. “Look, Dany.” His face is turned to the side and he looks on as the grey clouds of the North break slowly, allowing true sunlight to filter through for the first time in the north that she has ever seen. It paints the snow, sparkling in the sunlight. She looks to Jon, the sunlight breaks across Jon’s face, bathing him with yellow and gold hues. As bloodied, pale and exhausted as he looks, he smiles, true and strong. She has never seen such an equally breathtaking and heartbreaking sight.

“I love you” She whispers, tears in her eyes and heart overflowing with love and pain, hope and despair.

Jon kisses her, slowly and softly as if he is committing the feel of her to memory. “And I love you, Dany.” He lifts their entwined hands to rest over his heart to feel his weak heartbeat for a moment before moving it over to her own stronger one. “Know I will always be with you.”

* * *

She spends her last moments with Jon Snow with her head tucked under his chin, together, watching the sun bathe the North with its warmth after years of winter. Both hoping that this moment would never end. But when Jon’s body loosens and wanes beneath hers, when the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest stills, when his fingers goes slack between her own, and when his head softly falls against hers, Daenerys knows.

She squeezes her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners, heart stuttering and shattering again and again.

She lifts her head, gazes longingly, lovingly at the peaceful expression on his face and presses her lips to his before pulling back and pressing their entwined hands to her chest, to what was left of her heart.

“Always”

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie, writing this, I choked up a bit. I equally loved and hated writing this. Loved it because I feel like I a decent job capturing Jonerys feels, no matter how tragic. And hated it because I don't want to kill Jon Snow but felt like that it was where his character arc was building up to with the Night King.


End file.
